


Prelude to the Orange Girl Kicking Ivy's Ass

by zarabithia



Category: Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Taking his suppressants doesn't help DIck when he gets hit with Ivy's pollen.





	Prelude to the Orange Girl Kicking Ivy's Ass

The thing is, the kid probably wants Helena or Tiger. Or maybe even one of the Gotham bunch. He’d certainly take one of the Titans, though Midnighter can’t remember for the life of him which one of them is an Alpha. 

Probably the orange girl, the part of his brain still capable of rational thought thinks. 

But … well, this was their mission gone all to hell, so Grayson doesn’t have any of those people. 

“Please,” Grayson whispers, three weeks after they should have been picked up and two days after the heat starts. His fingers are digging through the costume and Midnighter is not good enough of a man to keep telling him no. 

Heats are a funny thing , especially for the Gotham bunch. Everyone knows the whole lot of them are omegas who drug themselves to the gills trying to stop biology from taking place. 

“M,” Grayson pleads again, and he makes the one letter into nine syllables. It’s accompanied by Grayson wriggling on his lap. 

“It won’t kill you to wait it out, kid,” he growls, because he can be an asshole sometimes. Or so he’s heard.

“Off suppressants.” Grayson actually licks his neck… which makes M want to grab both of those wrists and do terrible, filthy things until Grayson can’t actually talk coherently anymore. 

Grayson would let him and beg for it, and that makes it all the more reason why he should say no, honestly.

“Off … and it hurts,” Grayson whines, grinding against Midnighter’s groin with far more determination than he should. 

“You’re not off your suppressants, kid. Ivy’s pollen fucked them up.” Midnighter sighs and lets himself slide a hand through Grayson’s sweat-drenched hair. 

This is it, he’s giving in, he realizes, when Grayson presses his whole head into Midnighter’s hand. 

“When this is over, we’re getting orange girl to kick Ivy’s ass,” Midnighter whispers, and Grayson’s laugh doesn’t die down, even when Midnighter lowers him onto the sand beneath them.


End file.
